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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25988662">révérence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolee_sea/pseuds/carolee_sea'>carolee_sea</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Farmer Kita Shinsuke, Farmer Ushijima Wakatoshi, Gen, M/M, Mythology References, Rice Fields, Spirits, shrines</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:26:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25988662</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolee_sea/pseuds/carolee_sea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>If only one worships me, it is enough.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kita Shinsuke &amp; Ushijima Wakatoshi, Kita Shinsuke/Ushijima Wakatoshi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>révérence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_around/gifts">imaginary_around</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>happy belated birthday gift!! between all the busy hours, i cooked up this little piece. (i wrote half of it on my roadtrip) it's my shortest yet but i hope you'll like it. ♥️</p>
<p>as always, for anyone coming across this, enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Wakatoshi’s family sells the land and moves to the city, Wakatoshi doesn’t go with them. Rural life has always been a more familiar comfort, the rough simplicity of it all, like a dark brushstroke against fresh parchment. </p>
<p>They point him towards a rice farmer in the north. The word has travelled miles by mouth, and by the time the last murmur reaches him, all Wakatoshi has is a landmark and a name.</p>
<p>Three days later, he stumbles across the landmark: a shrine framed by a torii, the red paint faded and peeling. The shrine itself is in a small cave. It’s a little dusty, but neat and well-kept enough, for somewhere so remote and unvisited. There is a target in the corner, along with a bow and a handful of arrows. Through a small crack in the ceiling of the cave, a ray of light illuminates the target, which, upon closer look, is made from pounded rice grains. </p>
<p>Wakatoshi carefully picks up the bow and slides an arrow into place. Archery is not something he’s familiar with, yet the movements come naturally to him. The top of the target shines blindingly bright as the light hits it, and the red paint of the rings stand out stark as blood. Wakatoshi raises the bow, draws his right arm back, and lets the arrow fly. It hits bullseye with a soft thud. Then, inexplicably, Wakatoshi feels the wind against the nape of his neck and through his half-damp hair, and with it the smell of the harvest. If he closes his eyes, surely he’ll hear the sound of breeze through a field of golden grain. </p>
<p>“It’s been a while since someone visited.” There is a voice behind him, and Wakatoshi turns to face a man with a kind face but unsettling eyes. He is dressed in simple work clothes and has a towel tied around his neck. His hair reminds Wakatoshi of cranes, with their graceful white wings tipped in black. The man offers a gentle smile, and Wakatoshi follows him out of the shrine. </p>
<p>Kita Shinsuke is his name, the name Wakatoshi has been searching for. He’s the only one managing the land, loneliness being the reason he reached out, or as Kita puts it, an excuse. Wakatoshi is quickly introduced to a spare room in the house, and from then on, things are simple. </p>
<p>Despite the routine and his sense of fulfillment from hard work in the fields, Wakatoshi has a feeling that there are still things unexplained, unknown. It isn’t something spine-chillingly mysterious or malevolent, quite the opposite in fact. It is a feeling that everything in the land is sacred, touched by a quiet blessing, one step away from the spiritual world. Kita himself seems to talk in riddles sometimes, even though his words are always straightforward and honest. </p>
<p>Kita doesn’t talk much, but neither does Wakatoshi. Kita is orderly and diligent. Wakatoshi admires the care he puts into every action, and Kita seems to enjoy Wakatoshi’s presence during the often too-silent starry nights out on the porch.</p>
<p>One night, Wakatoshi asks Kita about the shrine, because he can’t put into proper words, the strange feeling that has imbued his being. Kita tells him about the legend of Inari, but Wakatoshi’s questions are still left unanswered.</p>
<p>“But the shrine, it isn’t for Inari, is it?” Wakatoshi questions. </p>
<p>Kita gives Wakatoshi his half-smile, the fond one that suggests he is amused. It’s times like these, when Kita mischievously shies away from answering, that Wakatoshi thinks Kita is rather fox-like.</p>
<p>With time, Wakatoshi realizes that Kita is a spirit of some sort, and on this land, there are countless more, invisible to his eye. They come with the glow of fireflies in the forest at night, bright as fire in the dark. They live in the voice of the stream, as it dances and laughs down the contours of the mountain. They exist in the rice fields, frolicking among the rice tillers, then quieting down to a whisper.</p>
<p>In spring, the tillering plants shoot up young and green, reaching into the sky. In autumn, the field is spun with gold, and the panicle heads, burdened with their heavy crowns of kernel, start to droop. In time, Wakatoshi learns to love the spirits of the land, and Kita graviates closer to Wakatoshi.</p>
<p>It is harvest time when they stand together amongst the rice plants, wind tangling their hair.</p>
<p>“There’s wind on your cheek.” Kita’s hand comes up, brushes Wakatoshi’s cheekbone, touch as soft as a feather. </p>
<p>Wakatoshi stares at him, memorizes his shining eyes, his skin that never seems to tan, his hair as white as dandelion fluff. </p>
<p>Kita may not be a god; he is too connected to the earth, too human, but Wakatoshi believes he deserves reverence. </p>
<p>“There is no need to worship me,” Kita says, but Wakatoshi brings offerings of rice and sake to the shrine, and in the passing days watch as Kita’s hair glows brighter and the soft smile so dear to him become more happy and content.</p>
<p>Kita visits the shrine with Wakatoshi one day, and there is something different this time. Two fox statues grace the entrance to the torii, one gold, one silver. The torii itself seems newer, vermillion surface glimmering in the evening light. Kita smiles, brilliant as the first snow. </p>
<p>They enter the shrine and kneel before the offerings Wakatoshi brought in three days ago. The fried tofu on the plate still looks fresh enough to eat. For the first time, Wakatoshi has no prayers. He pauses, reflects on his feeling of lightness, white clouds over a blue sky, and asks Kita what he thinks about happiness. </p>
<p>“Happiness," Kita muses, mulling over the word. "For the longest time, I thought it was nice, and it did feel good, to do everything on my own. I didn't need anyone to watch me, or anyone's approval. But I believe having you here, Wakatoshi, makes me happier.”</p>
<p>Wakatoshi is halfway through the threshold to the spirit world and there is nowhere else he would rather go. He thinks about the wind spirits, the forest spirits, and the spirit that sits at the dining table with him, with the tender smiles and gentle, steady hands. “What do you believe in?”</p>
<p>“The process, not the result. To build yourself upon the small things you do every day. Although, with a rice field, there will always be a result, the harvest.” Kita laughs lightly. “And happiness, I suppose.”</p>
<p>“But I’d like to know, what do you believe in, Wakatoshi?”</p>
<p>“You,” Wakatoshi replies, and it is enough.</p>
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